


Each Atom Sings to Me

by jusrecht



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Dark Stephen Strange, M/M, Overpowered Stephen Strange, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), like literally - Freeform, should i tag the name twice, two Stephens in one fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 19:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18857737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: Stephen Strange got his happy ending.





	Each Atom Sings to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】每一原子对我歌唱](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19160893) by [Nihilee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihilee/pseuds/Nihilee)



> I struggled a lot with Stephen's characterisation in this fic, but I'm of the school that believes that experience has a big impact on who you are, so. Anyway, let me know if I should put an OOC tag as a warning.
> 
> Title comes from one of the most beautiful songs in creation, [The Garden of Everything](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4x5SAseoJI4).
> 
> Translation into 中文 available [here](http://nihilee-mw.lofter.com/post/205ba21a_1c5be2ea7) at lofter by [Nihilee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihilee/pseuds/Nihilee).

 

“Not very subtle, are you?”

 

On hindsight, Stephen realised that he had been waiting for this confrontation. That it would occur at all was never the question, only the when and where. And if the ‘when’ happened to be now instead of ten, twenty years later, then it was simply a matter of coincidence.

 

The ‘where’ was a bit trickier. Perhaps, to some degree, Stephen had always known that something of this kind would take place tonight. If he had wanted to play it safe, then he would have waited somewhere less riddled with risks. Instead, he lingered on the balcony of Tony’s penthouse in the Avengers Tower, a glowing New York City at his feet. He hadn’t got to where he was by playing it safe.

 

Then the air shifted. The space around him fractured, trapping him in a mirror dimension. Stephen almost smiled. The confrontation had arrived.

 

“Took you long enough,” he replied, keeping his tone just this side of sarcastic. He didn’t need to turn his head to know who was now standing on the balcony with him. Only one person could weave a mirror dimension exactly like this—exactly like his own—and it was Doctor Strange.

 

The one in this particular reality, at least.

 

“I’m not exactly at my leisure to check every single point of disruption in the timeline,” the other man said, sounding a bit miffed. Different too, Stephen couldn’t help but notice. He wondered if it was what he sounded like to other people. “And you’ve been clever enough to keep yourself under the radar. Until this morning.”

 

Stephen hummed. “A bit too obvious?”

 

“Opening a portal large enough to swallow an entire alien ship? No, why do you ask?”

 

That bit of sarcasm missed its mark—mostly because Strange’s Cloak had decided on an untimely interruption precisely at that moment. First, it perked up, collars twitching in Stephen’s direction. Then the rest of the flowing length followed, gliding toward him and draping itself comfortably around his shoulders.

 

Strange watched this act of betrayal with disapproving, if resigned, eyes. “There goes the impostor theory,” he muttered with a sigh. “Not that I put much stock in it in the first place. You’re too… me.”

 

Stephen made no reply. Instead, he let himself bask in the Cloak’s presence, smiling when it patted and caressed his cheeks. He had lost his own Cloak the last time he had fought Dormammu. His victory, final and absolute this time, had come at a terrible price, but it had also taught him much. It had given him insight to unlock many secrets of the universe; too many, some might say, and perhaps they were right. The experience allowed him enough power to manipulate _enough_ rules, a million small infractions that finally led him here.

 

The Doctor Strange who was standing in front of him had none of that experience. Stephen looked at him and found him jarring. It was different from looking into a mirror, and yet not _so_ different that he could pinpoint all the variations at once; more of an impression that something was odd, not quite right.

 

“When did you lose her?” he asked, more gently than he had intended.

 

Strange understood at once. “Four years ago. Kaecilius.”

 

Stephen nodded. “That point of our history seems to match, at least.”

 

The comment earned him a frown. “We are _not_ comparing notes,” Strange said stiffly. “It’s against the rules.”

 

Stephen almost laughed out loud. He had lost count on how many rules he had manipulated and ignored. How much time he had spent skating the thin line between too much and not enough. So far, none of his cunning had come back to bite him in the ass, but it wasn’t to say he would not slip one day.

 

Like today.

 

“You know you can’t be here,” Strange spoke again a moment later. The Cloak, as if obeying some silent command, had returned to his shoulders. 

 

Stephen looked at the other man wearily. “Do I pose a threat to this reality?”

 

“The fact that I can’t answer that with any certainty is enough cause for concern,” was the blunt reply. “What do you want with Tony Stark?”

 

“I thought you didn’t want to know anything about me.”

 

In true Stephen Strange fashion, his other self ignored the jab. “Stark is an Avenger. Is that why you’re here?”

 

“I’m not here for Iron Man the Avenger. I’m here for Tony Stark.”

 

“But _why_?”

 

Stephen returned the favour in full and proceeded to ignore the question. “You’ve never made contact with the Avengers,” he said instead.

 

Strange frowned. “There is no need. The Masters of the Mystic Art have existed for centuries without revealing themselves to the world in general. The enemies we keep at bay come from other dimensions. It’s none of the Avengers’ business, just as their fights are none of ours. We have our hands full as it is.”

 

“And no purple alien ever crossed your doorstep,” Stephen mumbled.

 

Strange raised an eyebrow. “Is that what happened in your reality? An alien invasion?”

 

Stephen smiled but said nothing. Calling everything Thanos had done an alien invasion made it sound glib and ridiculous. Not that he could explain the irony to this Doctor Strange. This reality never knew Thanos. True, they had had their share of alien invasions—because if there was one thing every reality had in common, then it would be the existence of power-hungry dictators, always, everywhere, in profusion. Some were driven solely by greed while others hid behind a noble cause, but all invariably believed that the ends justified the means. Thanos, however, was a catastrophe of such a different magnitude that the universe itself bended before him.

 

And here, he never existed. His planet Titan—in fact, his entire system—had been swallowed by a collapsing star some million years ago; purely an accident, as all great changes always seemed to be. But to get here was no mean feat. This reality was the only one out of some billions Stephen had visited that did not have Thanos in it. The only one in which Tony lived.

 

The equation turned out to be simple enough. With Thanos in the picture, Tony always ended up dead; ergo, Stephen had to locate one reality with no Thanos in it. This was what he had found.

 

“You’re here for him,” Strange suddenly spoke, as if he could read his mind. “For Tony Stark.”

 

“That’s what I said.”

 

Strange ignored him. “Because you love him,” he continued instead—and _that_ surprised Stephen. The idea that someone, anyone, even if it was his other self, could read him that easily was alarming.

 

He opted for a neutral answer. “There are stupider reasons to bend the rules of the universe.”

 

“Even so.” Strange was still staring at him, incredulity plain on his face. “To mess with another reality just for... that? What happened to your Tony Stark?”

 

“He died,” Stephen replied, plain and simple, as if that one detail had not made him into whatever he was now.

 

“And that’s your reason for being here? To keep _this_ Tony Stark safe?”

 

“That alien ship would have shot him down.”

 

“And that,” Strange pointed out, suddenly stern, “is exactly my problem. What you did changed the course of this reality. It’s interfering with fate.”

 

Stephen could have told him that fate, or rather _fates,_ were three sisters of unmatched bitterness, not to mention incomparable ugliness. Instead he said, “It’ll be fine. If anything, ensuring Iron Man’s safety will only benefit the planet. He isn’t known as Earth’s mightiest defender for no reason.”

 

Strange refused to back down. “But you’re still changing the course of this reality. We don’t know what kind of ripples it will cause in the future. It may end up worse thanks to your interference.”

 

“It won’t,” Stephen told him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

 

Strange narrowed his eyes. “No one can make sure of it.”

 

“I can.”

 

There was a beat of silence. Stephen could see the moment it began to dawn on Strange just how different they were, and not just in principles.

 

“You?” When Strange spoke again, he sounded different—more controlled and more cautious. “You don’t even have the Eye of Agamotto with you.”

 

“It was destroyed,” Stephen told him. The sudden horror his words caused his other self amused him. “Relaxed, it won’t happen here. The one who destroyed it doesn’t exist in this reality. Lucky you.”

 

Something too complicated to be called sympathy flashed across Strange’s face. It must have felt odd, to sympathise with your own self who was not really you. Stephen nevertheless welcomed the sentiment. It made him feel not quite so alone.

 

“Still,” Strange made another attempt to argue, “you can’t abandon your duties in your own reality.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“No? You’re obviously _here_ instead of _there_.”

 

“I’m both.” Stephen raised his gaze, staring at himself in the eye. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m much more powerful than you are.”

 

The words fell heavily, sinking like rocks into still water. For some time, there was only a stretch of silence, carrying the weight of that declaration. Strange offered no reaction, and if he had felt at all offended, then he did not show it. Neither did Stephen expect him to. It wasn’t how they worked.

 

“The fruits of suffering?” There were traces of sarcasm in Strange’s tone, in the mocking twist of his lips. Anyone else would have been fooled. Stephen, however, saw the tension building under Strange’s skin, trickles of unease slowly honed into a knife. He could almost feel it under his own, glinting cold and sharp.

 

“You can say that.”

 

Strange nodded, as if he had just his suspicion confirmed. “Well, I don’t know what happened to you, but I can’t see myself doing what you did.”

 

“No, you can’t,” Stephen agreed.

 

“And that’s why we’re different.”

 

“Are we really?

 

“You just said so.”

 

“I said you can’t _._ ” Stephen pointed out, his smile slow and deliberate. “Not you _won’t_.

 

Strange kept his face carefully indifferent, his silence intact. Stephen continued, “You can’t imagine breaking the rules now—you think they’re all these ‘sacred’ laws that govern the universe and to disobey them is to disrupt some cosmic balance—but it’s only because you haven’t found the reason to look past those beliefs.”

 

“Not even then.”

 

“And the means. Because sometimes we don’t know what we want until we have the means to get it. A choice—it changes everything.”

 

Strange made a dismissive noise. “That only means you lack self-restraint.”

 

“Perhaps,” Stephen conceded. The truth was, he had accepted his fate after Thanos. He had made his choice—to sacrifice Tony in exchange for the rest of the universe. The loss destroyed his heart, but he was reconciled to it. (“ _It’s not about you.”_ ) Or so he had thought.

 

But then he had defeated Dormammu and it had… opened doors. Made things possible. Now that he knew how to manipulate the cosmos, he had its power at his fingertips. The universe broadened, and with it, his grasp. Suddenly, _Tony_ was not quite so out of reach.

 

Of course Strange didn’t, couldn’t, understand. He didn’t even _know_ his Tony Stark—and this was a loophole which Stephen hadn’t hesitated to take advantage of. It allowed him to stay close without too much risk of discovery. It allowed him to protect Tony. For months he had done just that, hiding in the folds between dimensions, watching him, making sure he was safe.

 

Then one day, Tony walked up to where Stephen was sitting and pretending to sip his tea from a paper cup in a bench in Central Park, and introduced himself. The rest, as they said, was history.

 

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Strange’s voice cut through his musings. “Even if I ask nicely?”

 

“No,” Stephen replied, resigned but honest.

 

“Then you leave me no choice.” Strange took one step back, putting a respectable distance between them. His fingers uncurled, ready for battle. On his forehead, the Third Eye blinked open.

 

Sighing, Stephen turned to face him fully. “I’ve told you, I’m much more powerful than you are.”

 

“Nevertheless.” Strange revealed the Eye of Agamotto. The Stone, hanging from its chain, glowed to life. “I have to try.”

 

Stephen smiled sadly. “I know.”

 

Strange attacked first. It was his first mistake. Stephen knew he was better as a defender, wielding feints and tricks instead of direct offense. He avoided the attack easily and went for Strange’s back. The Cloak—he had forgotten it was there—stopped him and Strange took the chance to return the favour with a few tricks of his own.

 

Stephen nodded. “Good.”

 

Strange gave him a look. It was not long before he made his second mistake. He unravelled the floor under Stephen’s feet, or at least tried to—and Stephen sprang his first surprise. He stepped out of Strange’s reach and folded the dimension over him. This sort of manipulation was child’s play to him now, but clearly Strange had never seen this trick before. His eyes widened in shock as mirror shards descended on him. Then his instinct took charge and instead of forming a shield, his fingers seized control of the dimension’s fabric, pulling the strands tight to stop Stephen’s manipulation. 

 

Stephen felt a smile curving his lips. “Very good.” He almost forgot how well he could fight.

 

Strange looked like he was a second’s away from rolling his eyes. “Any other trick?”

 

“It’s your turn,” Stephen told him.

 

Strange smirked. Then he unleashed the Time Stone—and it was his last mistake. There was nothing easier for Stephen to control than time. He was a sorcerer born to wield it, and that split second when the Stone first spread its magic was all he needed to take hold of its power.

 

The world did not stop. Only Strange did, his expression frozen in mild surprise. Slowly, almost regretfully, Stephen brought his fingers to Strange’s forehead, right on the Third Eye.

 

 “I am no threat to you,” he said quietly. “And so you will forget about me.”

 

As soon as he removed his fingers, Strange fell away. Only the Cloak kept him on his feet. Stephen smiled, stroking the fabric with the same gentleness he would have shown his own. It lay docile, subservient to his will but protective of its own Strange. He supposed it was a good thing that magical objects had no moral codes, no concept of right or wrong. It only cared about what it cared about. Otherwise, Stephen would have had to destroy it.

 

“Help him keep the planet safe, will you?”

 

The Cloak twitched in response. Stephen gave the collar one last stroke and allowed it to leave, carrying the unconscious Strange with it.

 

Alone now, the silence left him pensive. He was toying with the idea of inviting an old enemy, maybe Shuma-Gorath, for a little excursion to this realm—just to make sure that the Masters of the Mystic Arts would have their attention fixed firmly elsewhere instead of bothering with a small detail of peculiarity in their own backyard—when the front door opened and Tony walked in, dressed in his formal grey suit.

 

“Stephen?”

 

Like a moth drawn to flame, Stephen stepped out of the Mirror Dimension. A grin lit up Tony’s face at the sight of him, easing the tired lines around his eyes. “I knew it.”

 

Stephen found himself smiling as well. In Tony’s presence, it felt almost effortless. “Knew what?”

 

“That it was you earlier.”

 

“It wasn’t me.”

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Right. Because there is someone else around here who can open a huge portal in the sky and make an entire alien ship disappear.”

 

“Maybe there is.”

 

Tony snorted, but didn’t pursue the subject. “Rhodey knows too, by the way.”

 

“That it was me?”

 

“I thought you said it wasn’t you.”

 

“It wasn’t,” Stephen said gravely. “I was speaking hypothetically.”

 

Tony’s eyes were laughing as he linked his hands on Stephen’s nape. “Fine. So Rhodey knows, hypothetically, that it was you, so he’s wondering if you could give him a more comprehensive—if hypothetical—explanation so he can write a report that at least makes some hypothetical sense.”

 

Stephen could feel a frown gathering on his brow. “Colonel Rhodes wants to see me?”

 

“He’s the current leader of the Avengers. Which is a good thing, actually, that he knows about you.”

 

“In a way, but…”

 

“I know.” One of Tony’s hands moved to his chest, placating. Stephen remembered another lifetime and another Tony who had done the same, once, on a planet that had robbed them of everything. “I remember what you said about anonymity. How it’s important to keep your existence a secret et cetera, but seriously. Only me, Rhodey, Pep, and Happy know about you, o wizard of the ages. Oh and a certain kid who shall not be named until he comes of age.”

 

“That’s four more people than I’m comfortable with,” Stephen said mournfully.

 

“So basically you only want _me_ to know about you.”

 

“I only want you, period.”

 

“That’s cheating,” Tony complained, but he was smiling when he leaned up to brush their lips together. “You know how weak I am to flattery.”

 

“Yes, I know,” Stephen admitted and pulled Tony into a proper kiss. Tony always felt just right in his arms. This, he would have said to Strange, is what you’ve missed. His other self would never know how it felt to lose something _this_ right and then find it again against all odds. Stephen would die first—and probably drag the entire universe with him—before allowing himself to lose it, him, this, for the second time.

 

“So you’ll meet him?” Tony was all wide hopeful eyes and pouting lips. “Tomorrow? I can invite him over for dinner.”

 

Stephen rolled his eyes, but it didn’t stop him from stroking Tony’s back. “If it means that much to you.”

 

“It’ll definitely make my life easier.”

 

“Then I will,” Stephen said, resigned but fond.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes.”

 

A grin broke across Tony’s face. “You’re always spoiling me. A good thing I love to be spoiled.”

 

“Of course you do,” Stephen feigned another sigh. “Now let’s get you to bed.”

 

Power manipulation did come in handy, he decided as he picked Tony up in his arms. Tony complained, loudly, but wrapped his legs around Stephen’s waist all the same. He was smiling.

 

Stephen found himself smiling back. This was what he would keep at all cost—Tony here, in his arms, his to love and to protect.

 

He would have it no other way.

 

_**End** _

__

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think :)


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